


Blake Sidhe

by wintersjackson



Series: Urban Magic RWBY [6]
Category: RWBY
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern with Magic, Alternate Universe - Urban Fantasy, F/F, Gen, horror warning, torture mention
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-29
Updated: 2014-12-29
Packaged: 2018-03-04 04:04:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,071
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2908658
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wintersjackson/pseuds/wintersjackson
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Weiss has been getting the hang of this Shaman business since the spirits dumped Blake into her life, but she’s beginning to suspect the black cat spirit may be a whole lot more than she seems. Meanwhile, sinister forces begin to stir in the dark corners of the city.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Blake Sidhe

Weiss blinked, watching her familiar as the truth dawned. Now that she thought about it, she’d never seen otherwise, and Blake had technically never said otherwise either.

It had been a simple reclaiming ritual that they’d done in five other buildings that morning already. Something that let the local spirits know that this place was not needed by the humans, and was being given back to them. This was the last building they had planned to visit- but Weiss just stood, staring at her companion.

Blake couldn’t cross the border. It was a simple rule but fundamental: only impartial or good-natured spirits could cross a threshold without the permission of one who lived there. A powerful, mischievous or evil spirit would be withheld. If Blake was a simple luck spirit as she’d said, she should have had no problem. But she sat at the edge, watching Weiss in return. It had been one of the many things Gris had explained when they’d met for the first time after the ball, appalled that Weiss had not had it explained to her sooner. Slowly Weiss moved her foot over the border and immediately the cat rose, sauntering into the building. That was how she hadn’t realised, Weiss understood. As her familiar, Blake could follow her anywhere.

"What are you really?" Weiss called after her and if it came out a little hard she couldn’t blame herself. "The threshold, you couldn’t cross. You said you were a luck spirit.”

Even from behind Weiss recognised the movements that meant Blake was rolling her eyes. The cat kept that same disinterested stalk, making her keep walking to keep up.

"I didn’t say anything," Blake said scathingly. "Pay attention. You inferred."

Weiss bristled at the simple lesson-one of the first Blake had given-being turned against her.

“You implied! And you’re not answering the question. Nearly half a year I’ve been relying on you, and you were, what? Just planning on letting me continue to trust you?”

For a moment Weiss thought Blake was thinking of an answer, until the silence stretched on and she realised the spirit really just wasn’t planning on responding. She dug her heels in and stopped, glaring at the cat, until Blake noticed and slowed with an irritated sigh.

“I’m your guide and mentor, Weiss, not your nanny,” Blake explained as if to a child. “I was not chosen to bring you happiness and sunshine; I was chosen so I could teach you about spirits and magic. As long as my personal history does not affect my lessons, it is no business of yours and simply a childish reaction to being presented with your own childishness.”

Weiss bit down the insult that sprang to her tongue, but this was not fair. How could the spirit just expect her not to be offended, when she’d come to rely on her, her first friend in a world she really hadn’t been ready for?

“Being a shaman is about trust,” she said back shortly. “About balance. You taught me that. And like it or not, I’m not just some…distraction for you! I wasn’t chosen to punish you, and the fact you seem determined to act like it is the entire reason this is a problem! I’m supposed to be a-a spiritual leader, an example of balance and cooperation, and yet my “teacher” is an apathetic deadbeat who cares about no-one but herself!”

Even if her response was limited to a strangled hiss, Blake’s body raised to nearly twice her size as her hackles raised in anger. The cat spirit got stiffly up, stalking towards the centre of the building where the ritual was supposed to take place, and Weiss had no choice but to pace furiously after her.

Half a mile away, mismatched eyes blinking out of sync, the spirit cocked her head at the scene. She leant forward curiously, eagerly breathing in the scent of power and rage-but a closer inspection showed something else, wrapped around the first sensation. But only just. Smoothly, silently, she shifted her grip on the handle of her parasol, and twisted, walking away from the weak and unstable ritual.

~

“And another thing!” Weiss yelled, whirling with the bowl of foul-smelling gunk as Blake stalked furiously away from the third disastrous attempt at finishing the afternoon’s lesson. It had taken over half an hour to finish the ritual in her mood and even after they made their way home Blake still refused to even acknowledge Weiss’s concerns, and the girl had been getting steadily more frustrated. Would it kill the spirit to treat her seriously?

“Whatever you really are, your base form is an alley cat! For all your supposed knowledge, you are as average and little as every minor Fae this was supposed to help, and still you act like everyone should be thanking you for deigning to breathe the same air!”

Something ugly flashed in Blake’s eyes as she whirled, claws flashing and hiss resounding as she glared death at Weiss’s throat.

“Shut that tongue away before I cut it out, you stupid and cloistered girl!”

That was the last straw. Weiss threw the bowl to the ground where it smashed to pieces, screaming at the spirit as she pointed an accusing finger.

“So you can keep on telling me nothing and expecting me to do anything you wanted still? Why would I ever need a teacher who cares about no-one but themselves?”

“I GAVE UP EVERYTHING FOR THEM!”

The roar shook dust and cobwebs from the ceiling and every little scurrying thing in the building went silent. Weiss blinked in confusion as an expression of what almost looked like fear crossed the feline’s face. She glanced side to side-and then she was gone, door slamming with dust and stray papers jumping in her wake. Weiss felt her stomach plummet as she peered around the building, but all the fire their voices had seemed to summon had been blown away by those words. Now it just felt cold, and empty, and alone.

~

It was the fourth day since Blake had disappeared, and no matter how much she tried to tell herself the spirit had been more trouble than she’d been worth, and a nuisance, and a terrible teacher-she’d been Weiss’s friend. They’d disagreed before, even to the point of one of them storming out, but she was starting to get scared that maybe this time Blake wasn’t coming back.

By the second day she’d tried to find her, but needless to say she’d ended up with nothing but a migraine and a lonely bed once again. The minor summonings and small divinations she’d tried were things she’d perfected months ago, and it wasn’t that they couldn’t find Blake, it was that she couldn’t even get them to work. Blake had never directly helped before, when Weiss could do it with her eyes closed, and Weiss knew certain types of witchcraft worked only with a conduit of a companion, but she suspected it was something else. Her magic required balance and inner peace. Weiss had felt like a limb had been missing ever since Blake had left.

By now she was truly afraid. She’d gotten desperate, taken risks. She’d escaped her driver on a short trip, heading on foot for the small college Yang had mentioned her sister attended night classes at. In particular, the school’s budding and open-access supernatural department. Stray cats seemed to litter the campus, twanging something inside that she swiftly forced back down. Cats were just cats, and she saw them everywhere, after all. She’d found the library with a relative minimum of fuss, although the day was already beginning to lengthen and she suspected she had a world of trouble waiting for her at home.

Once she found a spare terminal she’d been initially lost for ideas. This was her best bet at finding out more about Blake, right? Not a good bet, but her best. A database with apparently thousands of articles and papers, and she had…a name, and even that was likely false. Consigning herself to relying on dumb luck, Weiss tried the basics.

>Search:: “Cat spirit Blake”

-Searching…

-Did you mean: “Cait Sith (…as Blake Sidhe, King of Black Cats or the…)

Weiss blinked, stunned. Several excerpts, and a summary article written by a PHD student at the college. Summing up her courage she clicked the article and began to read.

“Cait Sith, also known in some regions and tales as Blake Sidhe, King of Black Cats or the Quarry-Bride, is supposedly the name given to a mythical Fae, originally of the Summer Court. Per the tales, Cait Sith existed between the 18th century and early in the 20th, but due to the nature of Faerie’s legends it is impossible to ascertain if this figure truly did exist or is simply a conjured tale.”

“Per the most commonly accepted version, Sith was a Sidhe-”

Weiss opened the link in another tab quickly. The race of Fae nobles, few but strong. Hmm.

“-And one of Queen Titania’s-

Another tab. The title called her “Queen of the Summer Fae” which was all Weiss needed.

“-handmaidens, accompanying her on the hunt and protecting the Lady when she left her party. However, Sith felt an uncommon empathy with the lesser Fae and spirits, who were normally seen as amusements and servants by the Sidhe. Sith made multiple efforts to ease the troubles of lesser Fae affected by the hunts, but Sith’s story is commonly accepted to truly begin at the battle of Boxley between the Summer and Winter courts. Sith overheard Titania suggesting an assault led by a huge division of lesser Fae numbering in the tens of thousands, to weigh down and blunt the enemy force’s blades before the Sidhe led their own offence and supposedly finished off the battle. Sith was enraged by this disregard and fled into the ranks, rallying not just the doomed division but others too on both sides of the fighting. She led this massive army of lesser Fae against their commanders and royalty, who fled rather than engage.”

Weiss skimmed the next couple of paragraphs. More of the same- this Cait Sith became a plague on the queens of both courts and an idol of the lesser spirits.

“Even the Erlking, known as the one true king of the Wildfae of no court, could not resist hunting for such a prize, but instead fell for Sith’s strong heart and iron spirit. Despite this he still lead his Wild Hunt against her even after their marriage, earning her the name of “the Quarry-Bride.”

More tales. How had Weiss never heard even a hint of this story? It sounded like every lesser spirit in the city should have been worshipping them.

“It is likely Sith would have been a household name (if the tales are true) had it not been for the figure’s mysterious disappearance in the year 1918. Between one day and the next the figure disappeared, to the celebration of the Fae nobles. No new sign of the figure has been uncovered since that day, leaving many more questions than answers about this mysterious Fae, Cait Sith.”

Weiss sat back, rubbing her eyes with the balls of her hands. That had been a lot of writing, but she’d been enthralled. So much of it had seemed familiar, understandable. But as the author had said, there were so many questions left unanswered. If this really was Blake, why was she seemingly a minor spirit herself now? What happened in 1918?

How could she ever apologise to Blake if this was all true?

“Ma’am, we’re closing up.”

She jerked upright, head flicking around as she noticed how dark it had gotten. She could have sworn she’d only been reading for a little while. Muttering her apologies, she closed the browser and left the college, find overflowing with what she’d seen.

This time of the year the Winter court still held deep dominion over the stone, and the sky was as dark as the air was cold as she hurried back in the direction of the manor. The college was far from anything in what could be considered a good neighbourhood, and Weiss was reconsidering with every step just how far was really necessary to travel before calling her driver. She didn’t want her father to guess where she’d been, after all. She’d have enough trouble explaining as it was. Yet the dark roads and frosted cobbles seemed to curl and tie in on themselves despite the copy of the city’s map Weiss had seared into her memory years ago, and she felt certain she should have reached something she could recognise hours ago.

So, when she finally saw one of the green Fae-lamps she knew surrounded the eastern park down an alley, she didn’t hesitate to dash down it.

That certainty dipped and faded as halfway down the alley, the Fae-light seemed to flicker and go out.

Slowing, she started to back towards the alley’s entrance, but figures stepped out of the shadows amid mocking laughter before she’d taken more than a few steps. They closed in on her as she began to panic, forming a rigid ring of ten or so humanoid figures around her. One in particular stepped forward, dancing a knife that flickered with green sparks between its fingers, and gave Weiss a smile that warned of, nay, promised bloodshed.

“You look a little lost, love,” she purred, and Weiss realised that really wasn’t a figure of speech. Faint orange fur was visible where the shadows parted on the woman’s skin, and slitted green eyes travelled appraisingly down Weiss’s form.

“Yes, well, I was well on my way,” Weiss insisted, going quiet as the woman screeched with laughter. Refusing to watch the cackling further she dug her purse out of the jacket quickly, waving it a tad desperately at the figures. “Look, here’s all I have, alright? You’re welcome to it if you just point me back to the road, and there doesn’t have to be trouble.”

The spokes-mugger purred again and took a long step forward. Weiss couldn’t step back or she’d be in arm’s-reach of the shadowy figures behind her, so she forced herself to freeze and fight the urge to retch as a foul-smelling muzzle came far too close to her face.

“Oh, honey,” the woman said, “look down. We’ll be the ones to decide how much is ‘all’ you have, dear, and we’ll be taking all that and more, alright?”

Stomach dropping Weiss did as the woman said, noticing with dread the ring carved into the concrete slabs. A circle trap, sealed by the will of the spirits surrounding her, and she’d walked right into it. They weren’t kidding.

The cat creature was leaning forward, tongue extended in cruel demonstration, when a series of sharp tick noises sounded down the alley, causing everything in it to pause. The cat woman turned back, glancing at the silhouette standing at the very exit. A women, immaculately dressed to the nines, holding a dainty parasol in one hand-and a spirit in the other. A tiny Fae, glowing bright and green in the darkness and wailing drunkenly in a tiny voice, clasped by the tail as she swung it round and round in a lazy circle. When she was sure she had every eye in the alley, she let it drop to the floor.

And crushed it beneath her boot.

The cat woman yowled in anger, stepping out of the circle with an audible pop and striding forward. Something about the new arrival was screaming to Weiss, something horrible and wrong, and she had a feeling that she was feeling only the tiny dribble that made it through the trap.

“Whatever point you think you’re making, it’s a fool’s one,” the cat woman called, and Weiss felt an irrational urge to call out, to warn. “She stepped in fair and square and-“

She had raised a finger in an angry point when the tiny woman blurred, outline wavering for a second, and the feline stopped. There was a spray of something wet and a thump as something light hit the floor, and she slowly turned to the other shadows, staring dumbfounded at the stump that had previously been her hand.

“I wasn’t finished pointing-“ She mumbled dumbly, and only Weiss saw the handle of the parasol slip silver from the pole behind her before the second woman blurred again and a shadow screamed as the cat’s chest split in two, heart beating weakly as blood poured from it in a scarlet stream.

Weiss sank to her knees, terror far beyond words filling her heart as the rest of the shadows lunged forward. None got between the cat and her killer, and none died cleanly. Few managed to die screaming, but mostly because the pain inflicted as by an artist upon them made such a simple thing as to scream seem distant and unattainable.

In a matter of seconds, Weiss and the newcomer were alone in the alley.

Weiss rose shakily to her feet, feeling the full aura of the spirit wash over her as the life-force sustaining the circle drained into the stone. There was no doubt in the young shaman’s mind that if she was still alive, it was only because it amused the spirit. She also knew that when she ceased to amuse it, she was going to die, and it was probably going to be as far from quick and clean as night was from day.

The newcomer’s head tipped slightly, and her face split in a wide, delighted, savage smile.

Weiss was wrong.

Oh, she was wrong.

Oh, god in heaven she was wrong.

It was as far as the very depths of the void of death were from the centre of the sun.

She’d known pain, known fear, met people who worked them as artists did a canvas. The things the girl did to her within the first five seconds would have had her begging for death if she only had the breath to scream.

~

An unknowable age later, when she felt her heart start to skip, terror alone no longer enough to suspend her descent into sleep as agony celebrated within her and the blood slipping from a thousand cuts and holes turned every inch of her clothes to pink, she could see something, cowering at the side of the alley. A stray young tomcat, tiny and frail, cowering between a doorstep and some rubbish. It met her eyes, and she could almost pretend the golden orbs were the ones she’d wished she could see again, if only once.

“Tell her I was sorry,” she slurred, fear coming anew as tight heels clicked on the slabs, the spirit stalking closer, radiating her grim satisfaction. “Tell her…I understood, and had nothing to forgive her for!” Even for the agony wracking her body, all the horror she had experienced in those timeless minutes, tears still streaked her face anew as her heart quailed at what would surely follow. “And tell her I missed her!”

Silver steel stabbed down towards the exposed heart of the shaman that would have one day brought balance to the world.

And Weiss bucked as shards of metal stung her face, cutting across her eye and bringing a pain that was somehow fresh, pure, and real, that made her heart beat fast and steady and true.

The base of the shattered sword still held steady against a black paw the size of a child’s hand, held aloft by a cat of black so deep it was almost purple. Black eyes gazed from black fur into the mismatched pair of the spirit.

“She is not yours, terror of Grecia,” said a smooth, deep voice, and dozens of feline voices seemed to hiss in agreement as cat-eyes split the gloom all around the scene. The girl tilted her head slightly in curiosity-and was gone, as if she had never been.

Darkness swam in on every side of Weiss as fear gave in to wonder at the spirit’s departure, but she felt a strong pair of hands lift her and hold her to something warm and soft, as padded feet took her body away and her mind sank into blackness.

~

She awoke what felt like years later, though she could not remember dreaming. Her body burnt, every inch a new pain-but it was a human pain, and manageable. Struggling, she managed to force her eyes open, and even the faint, blurry image of a wooden roof brought pain she could not remember feeling before. There was a blur in her head too, something had happened, she knew. Why was she not home, why did her body hurt, where was Blake-

Everything came back at once and she gasped, back arching, as her spirit suddenly struggled and dipped and writhed against a wave of such, such pain.

“She’s awake!” Called a somehow familiar voice and the pain dimmed to that first burning, her heart recovering and soul settling back into her body as they struggled to file away just what she had felt. She looked again, though it remained a blurry mess, recognizing the face of the woman who leant over her, eyes closed and lips moving in silent mumbling.

“Gris,” she whispered, and one of the witches’ eyes creaked open.

“You’re a miraculous girl,” Gris said drily as her hands fell, helping Weiss struggle upright slowly. “I found you curled up on my doorstop three days ago, hanging onto life by the thinnest of margins, and clad in more cuts than rags. Something ritual, I think-most of it healed overnight once we managed to convince your soul not to abandon the body. Well, except for that.” She tapped Weiss’s eyebrow lightly and it was a fear to her how the finger went a little further than it had any right to.

The witch brought out a little mirror and Weiss could only stare at “that”. A scar, ugly and wide, deep enough that it must have cleaved the bone, went from her brow to her cheek. Her eye was pale and misty underneath.

“No magic my mother had would shift that one,” Gris explained softly. “She thinks it’s…proof. A mark of survival by whatever inflicted the rest. Something old, to have inflicted something like this just for surviving the ordeal. Couldn’t fix your eye, either. We could disguise the look, but…you won’t be using it again, I think.”

The door opened slightly and Gris glanced up, giving an apologetic expression as she wandered away.

“That was probably mother again. You’ll be safe here, I promise-I’ll just be a few minutes while I figure out what she needs.”

As soon as she left the room a dark shape leapt up onto the bed and Weiss’s heart soared. Blake rubbed her whiskers against Weiss’s face with a fervour edging on desperate, and Weiss imagined her nuzzling approached the same.

“You walked again,” she asked quietly once the two were able to step down to a mere crushing embrace. “You brought me to safety. After all this time, I’d thought I imagined the first time you changed. But this was you all along, wasn’t it?”

Blake rumbled an agreement, and something twinged in Weiss as she realised her friend was rubbing on the scar, covering the foreign thing with her scent.

“Black cats number beyond measure in this city,” the cat murmured in answer. “Rogue Sidhe lords are a little more recognisable to seers.”

They both went silent until Weiss pulled her friend a little closer, voice hesitant.

“…I’m sorry for what I said. You’ve known more sacrifice than anyone. I was wrong.”

Blake was silent for a moment and Weiss began to worry until the spirit responded,

“I’m sorry for blaming you for what you said. While I was gone, you were…wiser, and more pure of heart than I’d wanted to believe.”

Their pieces said, both were content to rest their heads against each other’s and rejoice in having the other back with them.

From the other side of the door, watching through the gap, Gris gave a soft smile. Weiss had been left alone on her step, but it had been only minutes before her familiar rejoined her and had since barely left her side. The spirits had chosen well, she was certain, and maybe so had she.


End file.
